In her first collection of poetry, Liz Chang examines pieces of her life as though they were artifacts left behind by the tide: smoothed by time, partially revealed, and a bit salty. She grapples with relationships, reconsiders childhood memories, and confronts fears that one might not suffice, might not make a difference. While admitting to doubt and disappointment, her language is never bitter; she doesn't whine or thrash but observes, gently questioning her own provenance, occasionally soothing the self she's exploring and recognizing her need to connect. With directness ("I want to feel...